Tough Love
by Snow.and.Roses.24
Summary: Cold, powerful, Edward Cullen craves his assistant, Bella. One night late at the office, he takes what he wants without asking. Lemon. All human. Please do not read if you are under the age of 18. Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

Isabella Swan, my secretary and personal assistant, worked with me on the forty third floor of my father's multi-billion dollar company. We hardly communicated unless I was giving her instructions on what was to be done, and she always did what she was told.

Always.

The girl was an angel sent straight from heaven to torture me. She was small and fragile, and sweet and soft spoken. She had a beauty that couldn't be compared to anything else in this world. It was the kind of beauty that came from a light inside of her that sparked everything else into magnificence.

How much I wanted her wasn't even something that could be fully described. She was the air that I breathed and every thought in my head, and she consumed my very being, day and night.

Yes, she was an angel, and that must have made me the devil. It would be dishonest to say that conclusion didn't fit, and if I didn't have anything else in the world, I prided myself on my honesty. I was the kind of person who was better off alone. I was harsh and blunt, and I felt nothing. I ran my workplace with an iron fist and spent my lonely nights in a cold, empty apartment on the Near North Side of Chicago. It fit my personality to a tee. I was bitter and alone at the age of twenty nine, yet the monster inside of me craved this delicate creature with a wanton abandon.

I had never had much luck when I came to women. I was always too unfeeling, to indifferent, not empathetic enough, never thoughtful enough, and in the words of many women who saw fit to end our encounters, "not human" enough. I didn't remember anniversaries. I didn't remember birthdays. I didn't remember their favorite color or the name of their favorite perfume. I didn't even remember the names of half of the women that had paraded through my life. That's not to say that I couldn't, but when relationships like the ones I had been involved in began as a less than half hearted effort anyway, why would I waste my energy? Why should I have pretended to care when I just plain didn't?

But as I watched the girl that waited on me hand and foot, every day, typing away at her desk with her bottom lip between her teeth and her brow furrowed in concentration, I knew that even if it was unhealthy beyond reason, she made me feel something.

We were the last ones left on our floor and it was well after office hours, but here she was, working away.

"Isabella, may I see you for a moment?"

I was always formal. It was a habit. She looked up, stunned, as her cheeks colored red. She squeaked out a hurried "mhm" and nodded her head slightly, looking childlike despite her twenty five years of age.

"Come into my office." I instructed. She saved a file and shut her computer down before following me back to my desk.

"I need you to proof this quickly before I send it out." I handed her the memo that was to be sent to my father as the weekly report, knowing full well it was flawless. Still, it gave me the chance to be close to her as I read over her shoulder, inhaling her scent and feeding off her presence. Every Friday this happened. We would be here alone, I would ask to see her, she would proof my weekly report, and we would both go home. This week I could tell something was different. Something inside was yelling at me to get away from her before I did something to hurt us both. She was too close, and I was having too many problems with my self control.

And then the most beautiful girl in her button down and tiny waisted pencil skirt, bent over my desk and reached for the memo, her shirt riding down, and her skirt riding up, and her scent wafting its way through the air, right into my senses.

In a half of an instant I felt myself snap. Before I could stop myself, I ripped the report out of her hands and trapped them beneath mine in one quick motion. She gasped and began to speak, but I cut her off. Before this happened I needed to set some ground rules. I knew I couldn't handle seeing or hearing her inevitable pain or horrification at my attack or trying to fight back, so I took advantage of her timidness and launched into my demands.

"You will not speak. You will keep your mouth shut. You will not look at me. Your eyes will remain down and you hands will stay where I put them. You will not move no matter what happens. When you leave this room you will tell no one of what has happened here. If you do, I promise you there will be severe consequences. Do you understand me?"

Her body remained stiff and she didn't respond. I could feel the smallness of her hands underneath mine, flat on the mahogany desk that matched her hair, as I stood with my back pressed against her. She was so close, and she smelled fucking delicious. Her breathing was irregular and I could tell she was frightened.

"I said Do. You. Understand Me." I ground out viciously through clenched teeth, waiting for her response. She nodded. It was a small gesture, one I wouldn't have noticed had I not been paying close attention. It was enough.

"Good. Turn around, eyes down." I commanded, and she turned slowly after I released her hands. I then placed them on her shoulders and reminded her not to move them. With that, I made my way hastily down her body, flicking buttons open as I went. The contrast of her ivory cream skin against the navy lace bra had me painfully hard in an instant. It was enough to make me forget about what a monster I was for the moment.

"Fucking beautiful," I couldn't help but mutter. She was trembling and her breath hadn't evened. She was so scared, my tiny little angel. She whimpered slightly. I ripped the pencil skirt down aggressively along with the matching lace panties that completed the set, and lifted her milky legs to step out of them. I kept the black pumps on.

Fuck. Me. She was bare. I took a moment to inhale her scent before worked my way back up her body, liking and biting the perfect skin. She didn't move, just like I had instructed her. I growled in frustration as the material of her bra interrupted my assault of her body. Impatiently, I took her hands off her shoulders long enough to remove the offensive material and placed them back where they were before. Her eyes were closed and her jaw was clenched. Taking her by the waist, I lifted her onto the desk and spread her legs. Again, fucking beautiful.

Making quick work of my black belt and dress pants, they dropped to the floor and my hands found the small of her back. I pulled her as close to me as I could get as I entered her swiftly. Fuck, she was so tight and so wet and so fucking warm. She was shaking more violently now and she squeaked with the intrusion. I firmly crushed my mouth to hers and my tongue forced its way through her lips. She tasted like heaven. I thrust forcefully into her again and ripped my mouth from hers. Burying my face in her neck, I found a rhythm and continued to take her over and over again. As she unwillingly came, I chanced a look at her face. Her eyes were closed tightly, and leaking out of them were two shimmering, crystalline streams of tears.

I paid no attention to the excruciatingly painful stab those tears left in my heart and came inside of her, wanting my moment of complete horrendousness to be over with so that I could go home and detest myself in private.

Because I couldn't ignore the tears, I brushed them away with my thumbs before I stepped away and pulled my pants up. She got dressed without a word, sticking to the rules I gave her, and left.

If she didn't hate me or fear me, and if she wasn't disgusted by me before, I was fairly certain that had all changed.


	2. Chapter 2

The weekend was a torture that I personally welcomed. I needed a punishment. I deserved punishment and pain, and I deserved to wallow in my misery with a few bottles of Jack Daniels. So that's what I did. I spent my weekend alone and drunk.

When Monday morning came, I pulled myself from the heaviness of my bed around four a.m. and forced myself to shave, shower, and brush the evidence of my weekend from my mouth. I went for a morning run, and with a headache and a guilty conscience, I headed off to work, only to find that she wasn't there.

I avoided places around that office that I knew Bella frequented, and steered clear of her office space for three days following the weekend of the incident. It wasn't hard to do seeing as how she had called in sick for those three days. Still, I was cautious.

So far, I hadn't been slapped with a law suit of any kind, and my bosses acted as though nothing was out of the norm, so she hadn't turned me in as of yet. On one hand I was relieved, and on the other I was completely anxious, just waiting for it all to go up in flames. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that I deserved whatever punishment I received, but not only had I hurt myself and my angel, but I had also put my father's company at risk. If a scandal of this magnitude were to be uncovered, the press would have a field day, and my father's company would suffer immensely. It was sick and stupid and if I had the chance do it over again I don't even know if I would.

And that's exactly why I should have known that I couldn't avoid her forever. After all, she was my personal assistant.

It was six o'clock on Wednesday morning as I headed through the empty lobby on the first floor towards the elevators. I waited somewhat impatiently for the damn lift to reach ground level and hopped on as soon as it opened. Being pretty much the first one here, I was a bit taken aback when it stopped on the twenty second floor, and even more horrified when I realized the person boarding was none other than the angel I had defiled only five days prior. She took one look at me and cast her eyes to the floor, dropping the stack of files in her hands. I stiffly bent to help her pick them up as the elevator doors closed us in.

"Thank you." She squeaked softly.

Don't thank me, sweet angel.

I don't deserve it.

We stood in the rising lift in silence as we waited for our floor. All the while, my mind was screaming at me to say something. Screaming at me to apologize and to get on my knees in front of her and beg for forgiveness. Screaming at me to throw her up against the elevator wall and screw her into oblivion.

She broke the silence first.

"I just want you to know…"She began so softly that I barely heard her."That I'm not going to tell anyone, I promise. You're probably worried about that, or maybe not. I need this job so I'm not going to quit either, and for what it's worth…even if it's not much…" She paused and took a deep breath. Her voice shook with the words. "If you had just asked me out to dinner or something, even if you only wanted me for one night…I would have said yes."

The bell that signaled that we had reached our floor sounded and I stood there as she walked on to her office space. My heart cracked in two as her words replayed in my head. I had a chance. I had a chance and I blew it. Not only did I blow it but I hurt her. She obviously couldn't understand how much it pained me to hear her words. How much it was really worth to hear her say those things and how horribly dark and torn and hopeless I felt, standing in that elevator wishing I could take it all back now. Wishing that I could have just sent her flowers or asked her out sweetly, softly and without fearing that I wasn't capable of showing her compassion, affection and how much I felt for her her because that was something I just didn't know how to do.

I felt a strange prickling in the back of my eyes and a throbbing ache in my throat. My brows furrowed and I lifted my fingers to my cheek, I astonishingly came to realize what the warm wetness there was. For the first time since my very early childhood, I was crying.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know a lot of you have asked about the ending due to the author's note in chapter two. I was just trying to say that my story may not be a bright and upbeat fairytale. I'm not going to give away the ending, but just know this; I'm a sucker for happy endings. Also, some of you were bothered by the whole rape thing. I'm sorry about that and I didn't mean to offend anyone. I would just like to say, I'm not a fan of rape either. It's a horrible act of violence, its utterly inexcusable, and I detest the very thought of those who think they can do something that vile and get away with it. So now I bet some of you are thinking, "Then why the hell did you write about it?" Here's my explaination:**

**Some of the best literary works are those that bring forth questionable and taboo subjects. I'm not comparing myself to those works by any means, but my point is that part of what makes them great is the fact that they present valuable lessons and disillusionments through truly realistic situations, and 'truly realistic' is pretty much never the equivalent to a utopian perfection. Not to say that a happy story can't be good too...I just...URG! I'm rambling. Okay. You catch my drift. You can stop glaring at me through your computer screen over the fact that this story will end badly because it won't. I promise. Look, I'll start making it a little less sad. And it's a lot longer than my last chapter too! Now let's get this party started!**

EPOV

The elevator closed and I couldn't bring myself to focus my eyes on the reflection in the door, nor the burning in my chest. I wiped the evidence of my break down with the sleeves of my suit jacket before I hurriedly trudged to the car. Nothing could have prepared me for the force of her words. Nothing.

My hands, frozen stiff, were forced to grasp the key and put the car into gear. I had to get out of there before others started to arrive. Then, I put my mind and body on autopilot, and shut down.

The ride to my house was uneventful. I stopped at Starbucks and paid for my overly priced mud in a cup and didn't bother to lift it again after it had been set in the holder. It stayed there after I had returned home, untouched and cool.

I called in sick and turned off my blackberry for the day. Then I carelessly changed and collapsed onto my bed, utterly exhausted, and didn't wake up again until four in the afternoon.

The sound of my doorbell startled me from me dreamless state and I staggered from the bedroom to the hallway, bleary eyed and wild haired. I was a bit bewildered, not only because of the fact that I was half awake, but also because no one came to see me.

Ever.

It was just the UPS guy with a stack of contracts. I shoved them aside and went back to bed. That's where I stayed until I finally got up the energy to return to work on Friday.

The dark circles under my eyes hadn't faded one bit since I awoke, still not entirely ready to go back as I shaved and showered. Eventually I knew I would have to face the music, and with the weekend following the work day, I was confident that if I made it through today I would be alright.

I arrived around seven, purposefully avoiding a situation similar to the early morning run in I had encountered prior to my breakdown, and retreated into my office without incident. She wasn't at her desk, but I knew she was at work because her things were situated on and around the mahogany tabletop. The tabletop that matched her hair.

Lying beside her stack of files was her plum handbag, which meant that she would most likely be wearing the matching shoes. With that she usually wore a black pencil skirt and her grey cardigan. Her hair would be up, exposing her delicious neck, because otherwise her hair would be frizzed and jostled by the wool and she wouldn't be able to concentrate. This would result in her either styling it up or tying it in a knot and then sticking a pen through it to make it hold.

I needed a distraction. I dived into my work, catching up and making phone calls. I could easily use the fact that I was "swamped" to work through lunch and finally I was at the last task of the day. Exhausted, I hurried through the weekly report and printed it out, avoiding the memories of our weekly proofing session, alone in this very office. It was past hours, as usual, so I decided to take the report over to the mailing room, personally, instead of having one of my workers do it in the morning. It was just easier this way and I knew it would get done. What I wasn't expecting, was to see a single desk lamp on as I exited my office.

Sitting in her usual spot, typing away, was Bella with her hair up in a grey cardigan, black skirt, and plum heels. Just as I had suspected. I stopped dead in my tracks, stunned and panicking, before I swiftly turned to head back into the office. Just as I turned, I heard the clicking of her keyboard cease.

"Mr. Cullen, do you need me to proof your report?" Bella asked, as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Confused, I briefly wondered if I was going insane, or if by some miracle it was all just a horrible nightmare that had never actually happened. Looking back at her, and the mark I had left on her neck, I realized that it was in fact real, and she was just ignoring it.

Then I thought, maybe we could go back to the way things were if we just pretended there was nothing wrong. No, that never worked. It couldn't possibly be that simple.

"No, I think its okay this week." I said cautiously, avoiding eye contact.

"Are you sure? I don't mind."

"Yes, I'm sure." I insisted, turning again to leave.

"Look, Mr. Cullen, with all due respect, I really think I should have a look at it." I turned again, feeling dizzy from all the circles, physical and metaphorical, and realized that she was trying to tell me something other than what she was actually saying.

What the hell was she playing at?

Being a naturally blunt person, I opted to just throw it all out there, having nothing else to possibly lose. My back stiffened slightly, and I tiredly faced her, meeting her eyes with my own.

"Look, Bella, my weekly reports are always flawless and I don't have you proof them for any other reason than to be near you, if I'm being terrifyingly honest. After what happened last Friday, I really have trouble believing that you actually want to go through that…routine again. I don't know what you're trying at, but it's a cause to no one's benefit. Pretending nothing happened won't fix it and can never make up for what I did to you."

Lord knows, it wouldn't make me feel any better and it couldn't possibly help her, and honestly, I was too tired to go through this right now, but what other option did I have?

"I'm not trying to pretend it didn't happen, Edward." She started, dropping the formality of my surname, as well as her shoulders in defeat or exhaustion. Which one it was, I couldn't tell.

"I'm not going to tell you that it was all peaches and roses and rainbows either, or that it was pleasant and that I enjoyed it because that would be bullshit. It made me feel cheap and disgusting like a wadded up tissue. I went home and cried myself to sleep. But for Christ's sake, I've seen and lived through far worse things in my lifetime, things that you couldn't possibly imagine, and this really is nothing in comparison. So stop. I'm fine. Mad as hell, but I'm not hurt. You're fine. We're all fine. Can I see the report?"

She had worked herself into a tizzy as she leaned against desk, cheeks flushed and hair falling from its holder. I could do nothing. I couldn't breathe or blink or form a coherent thought. So I did what she said and handed her the report, not taking my eyes off her.

She took the report from my outstretched hand and read it, thoroughly, with a 'V' between her brows. After the longest pause imaginable, she looked up at me with a bewildered expression and handed it back to me.

"Well it's a damn good thing you had me proof it. Dear god, where was your head when you wrote this?" I gaped at her in confusion, but I didn't dare move my gaze from hers.

"I…what do you mean?" I asked, confusion evident in my tone.

"Did you write it with your eyes closed?"

"I don't…I don't know…I…What's wrong with it?" I trailed off thinking back to when I had put it together. I honestly couldn't remember doing it; all I could recall was mindlessly working on the computer as I thought of her.

"Edward this thing is full of errors."

And that's how my weekend began. I still felt like an asshole and my guilt was eased only slightly. Nothing could ever take back what I had done, even if she seemed to be alright. Things weren't instantly fixed and this was far from over, but it was better. Albeit only a little better, but better. And better was always a good way to start.


	4. Chapter 4

Friday was coming to an end and I was just finishing up my report. I had fired three people today, and while we were short staffed, at least those that remained were competent. I had just printed it off and was going through a stack of applications when I heard a knock at my door.

"Mr. Cullen? It's getting late and everyone's gone. Do you have that weekly for me to proof?"

I looked up to see my angel in a red silk blouse, black pencil skirt, and matching fuck me pumps. Her eyes were swirling in color and her lips were cherry colored. She looked good enough to eat.

"Yes, Isabella it's right here." I answered as I handed it to her and went back to my applications. I had to focus on anything that wasn't her, just so I could keep my bearings.

She gave it a once over and handed it back. It was flawless, as usual. With a swift turn of her heel she made her way back to the door and I breathed a sigh of relief knowing she would be leaving soon. It wasn't easy to stay in control, but somehow I'd managed.

A minute later I heard my door slam and the lock click. Bella was back in my office, but now she had a roll of duct tape with her, and something else that I couldn't see. Her eyes were different this time. They seemed frozen, and tinted with a slight hint of red. In this moment my Bella looked nothing like the Angel I'd known her to be.

"Don't move Edward Cullen." She said, her voice harsh, cold. I look to see what was in the hand she'd raised and my eye caught on the gleam of a blade. Bella had a knife.

I sat frozen in my seat as she approached, having never been this terrified in my life, and watched in shock as she roughly grabbed my right arm and taped it securely to the seat of my office chair then followed it with my left. One last piece was ripped off and placed over my mouth. I cringed as it caught my stubble.

"You will not move unless I tell you to. If you value your life you will do exactly as I say. That night you raped me you told me to keep my eyes down. You told me not to look at you. Tonight, I want you to never take your eyes off me. You will watch every minute, you understand?"

I nodded in fear as she removed my tie, ripped open the buttons of my shirt and traced my chest with her soft hands. I couldn't help but be turned on, and I didn't understand how I could be so scared and so aroused at the same time.

She guided the tip of her knife down the center of my chest and traced my abs with the blade. I could feel it scrape against my skin but it wasn't hard enough to draw blood, just cool and metallic enough to send shivers down my spine. With one swift motion of her weapon, she popped the button of my slacks off and unzipped my pants harshly.

"You like this, don't you?" She asked, harshly. When I didn't respond she tugged painfully at the back of my hair with her free hand and held her knife to my throat.

"I asked you a question. You'd better fucking answer me." I nodded ashamedly and closed my eyes, tears filling them and chills racking my body. Is this what it was like for her? If so, then I deserved to be shot.

"Of course you do, you sick bastard. What did I tell you? Look at me you pathetic man, and don't take your eyes off me."

I forced my eyes open and watched as she undid the buttons of her shirt and let if fall off her milky white shoulders before she slid her skirt off. There she stood in a black bra and panty set, bordered in red lace and her fuck me pumps. I don't know if I'd died and gone to heaven or to hell.

She crouched on the ground in front of me before she ripped my pants off my body and ran the blade down the inside of my thigh, a swipe about two inches long. I cringed as it cut my skin. She licked the blood away from my cut and glanced up at me through her lashes before bringing the tip of the blade to her tongue and licking that clean too.

She cut the elastic band of my boxers and ripped them the rest of the off. My legs stung at the feeling, undoubtedly leaving red marks in the wake of the fabric.

"I've tried to forget, you know, and believe me, I'm very good at blocking out bad memories. Hell, it's not like it was the first time I'd been raped. You know, you see a lot of things when you grow up in the ghetto, and you see a lot more in foster care. But somehow, this just didn't sit well with me and for some reason I just couldn't. Fucking. Forget."

She cut the straps of her own bra and I watched in awe as they fell across her covered breasts. She unhooked the clasps at the back and lowered her panties until they pooled at her feet.

"So I figured, if I couldn't get over it, then I'd just have to get even."

She stepped out of her panties and closer to me, wearing nothing but those pumps.

"Mind you, this has only ever happened once before. That man wasn't as lucky as you are. He'll never be able to hurt any more girls ever again, if you know what I mean." She glanced down at my erect member and back to my eyes.

"I may have pulled a Lorena Bobbit in my day, but at least I was smart enough to finish the job and not get caught. But don't worry, you're much too pretty for that, Mr. Cullen. James was a vile and disgusting man. You just need to be taught a lesson."

She sauntered over to me and placed herself in my lap, running her folds along the underside of my cock before she lifted herself up and sank down on to me. It was the most bittersweet torture I'd ever endured as she raised up again and slammed herself back down on me, gripping my shoulders with her hands, nails sinking into my skin.

She continued to ride me, her head thrown back in pleasure, as she produced the most delicious moans. I could tell she was close when her walls started to flutter around me. She leaned forward and rolled her hips, hitting a new angle and I growled. She rocked in pleasure, I came inside her as she bit my neck, hard. I yelped through the tape.

She laid, spent on my chest for an immeasurable amount of time and I wished desperately to stroke her hair, but my hands were trapped to the chair.

She finally stood up and put her clothes back on. She walked over to me one last time and slapped me across the face. It was going to leave a mark, as were the bite and the cut on my thigh. She cut off the tape and ripped it from my mouth.

I never took my eyes from hers as she watched me dress, perched on the corner of my desk, playing with the blade of her knife.

She gathered the rest of her things and I waited for her at the door of my office, watching as she casually folded her coat over the arm holding her suitcase.

She gave me one last glance and out eyes caught. She stood there, stiff, and I resisted the urge to grab her and hold her. Just before she turned and walked out the door, I looked her dead in the eye and spoke the one thing I knew to be true.

"I'm in love with you, Bella Swan."

**A/N: Review please?**


	5. Chapter 5

BPOV

He looked at me with gorgeous eyes and flushed cheeks as my clenched jaw ached with the thrust of his words. My eyes, automatically narrowing into the tiniest slits of distaste and fury, assessed the pathetic bastard before me. He didn't know what love was. Not that I did either, firsthand anyway, but he certainly couldn't have been capable. Of that I was sure.

"I hate you, Edward Cullen," I spit with as much contempt as I could muster, and then I walked out of the room, shamefully counting every beat of my heart until I would see him again.

I had 311,039 beats to go.

EPOV

My chest felt heavy and my heart slowed. It ached with a dull throb and a hum resonated throughout my body. I imagined it felt something like being stuck by lightening, yet I wasn't even surprised at her reaction, only crippled by it.

I cleared my throat, glancing around the vacant office, and forced myself to the elevators. One look at the metal door and I knew I couldn't ride it down knowing that it would smell like her, so I took the stairs to the thirty sixth floor and rode the utility elevator the rest of the way to the garage.

On the way to my place, I stopped by the grocery to pick up some Jack Daniels and a stack of frozen entrées, ignoring the bubble gum smacking teeny bopper with the nametag of 'Jessica' making eyes at me over the register.

"Here's your change, Sir. Can I help you with anything else?"

I shook my head and responded with a steely "No thank you," unnerved by the eyes I felt on my backside as I exited the store. I wished that they belonged to someone else entirely.

I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if Isabella and I had met under different circumstances. If she were just a normal woman, and I a normal man who happened to stumble upon each other with fewer complications and lightened souls.

Maybe I would smile at her from across the isle of a grocery store and comment on the product she was considering, or perhaps I would bump into her on our first day at University, and insist that I take her for coffee as a proper apology. We would exchange numbers and I would wait a day before I called her back, so as not to appear too eager. She would be stunning as she opened the door to greet me for our first date. We would laugh and talk and agree on a second. I would walk her to the door, at the end of the night and we would both be nervous, but I would kiss her goodnight in spite of that.

Our fist time would be sweet and gentle after we both professed our love for each other. I would take her to my mother's house under the pretense of meeting the family, when in reality, I would be there to collect my grandmothers ring.

She would cry as she accepted my proposal, and once again as she walked down the isle, peaches and cream in a white gown, her dark curls and red lips the perfect contrast to her attire. We would begin to build a family of our own, starting with the honeymoon, and live happily ever after, loving each other unconditionally and irrevocably throughout the years as we watched our children grow.

We could have been so happy.

I didn't even bother to heat an entrée, I simply put away my things and headed to my bedroom, shedding my clothing and hopping in the shower. Hot water burned my skin, and it felt good until a trail rolled down my thigh, alerting me to a sharp stinging.

Sighing, I tended to the cut and finished my shower before crawling into bed and succumbing to bittersweet dreams of the both of us in a place where we could both have our happily ever after.

I refused to wake up for seventeen more hours. Unfortunately, even a few of my dreams knew better.

_Glistening white feathers ruffled as they spread, shimmering in the light. They surrounded my angel, forming a backdrop as they arched from her shoulder blades. Her gown, white as the clouds she descended from, flowed with the breeze created by her flight._

_She stood before me, her eyes large and innocent, her cheeks and lips colored with the most luscious shade of pink, almost red. My Angel's mahogany locks were pinned up and back, but a few curls were loose, hanging around her face and neck._

_She took a step towards me, her hand reaching for mine, and as I grasped it, a tear slid from her eye. The honey chocolate orbs that stared into me darkened to a harsh shade of onyx, and a small shriek burst from her lips. Feathers flew and the skies darkened, wind rushing all around us._

_Her back arched and a scream erupted from her, and the sound of a whip cracking broke through the air. It was a moment before I realized that was the sound of her wings being torn away, as she fell into my arms, sobbing. Black liquid ran down her back, beginning in the place her wings once were. Her cries quieted as she stared up at me, glaring with the most concentrated intensity._

_"You did this to me."_ She whispered, right before my eyes sprang open.

I was drenched in sweat, and sick to my stomach, as I hurled myself out of bed towards the bathroom. My stomach emptied itself as soon as I reached the toilet. After another quick shower, and a thorough brushing of my teeth, I changed and gathered my sheets and clothes from last night, rolling them into a ball and setting them in the laundry room.

Having nothing else to do, I spent the rest of my day downing the bottle of Jack, and watching nothing in particular on my sixty two inch flat screen. In a haze of alcohol and hopelessness, I finally pulled myself off the couch and into the bathroom, and clumsily sifted through the medicine cabinet until I found what I had been searching for. In my hands was the perfect escape. The perfect way to stop the pain, and do the world a favor by ridding it of a person like me. The perfect way to make sure I could never hurt her again. In my hands, I had a whole bottle of Valium.


End file.
